Summer Star (The Blue Phoenix Series Book 1.5) (14 page)
Read Summer Star (The Blue Phoenix Series Book 1.5) Online
Authors: Lisa Swallow
I can't escape.
“Did someone find out where you are?” Sky's voice is kinder and every cell in my body aches for her to take hold of me.
“Yes.”
“The supermarket?”
“Sandchurch.”
“But I didn't see anyone...?”
I turn and rest my back against the wall, look into the ink black sky. “Someone always sees.”
“So I guess we're not waiting until the morning?”
“No, we have to go.”
“Someone's coming to take you home?”
“Yeah.” I turn my head to look at Sky. “Will you come with me?”
“What? No, no way. I'm going to my friend's place and picking up the pieces of my life.”
“Sky...”
Connect. Touch her. Show her.
“Come back with me, at least until we know you're safe.”
“Safe? From what?”
“Whether the press knows who you are - they have pictures.”
“What pictures? Who?” Sky's eyes widen and I want to take her face and kiss away her worry about everything that happened today.
“You said your life is a mess, that you might not have a job; stay with me while you sort things out?”
“I can't,” she whispers.
“Why?”
Sky doesn't respond but the moonlight picks out a tear shining on her cheek. I made her cry today. Twice.
I want to be the man who makes her happy
. I place my mouth on her cheek, the salty tear smearing my lips. “Don't worry, you’ll be fine. They'll forget about you.”
When Sky shifts her face and her warm mouth meets mine, I’m taken by surprise at the kiss and the passion it carries. I respond with an intensity to match. Sky’s kiss delves inside, gripping my soul, and pulling it back to hers. Whether or not she likes it, Sky has a part of me. If she leaves, she takes that part with her and this will never be over. Her damp cheek brushes against mine as she dips her head, away from me, us and the place we lose ourselves in each time we kiss.
Sky reaches out, soft fingers against my cheek, and in her eyes, there's a masked sadness. “Go and pack. How long until they're here?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes. Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” I kiss Sky hard on the mouth, relief rushing out with my breath.
She said ‘yes’.
Back in the house, I jump the stairs two at a time and throw everything into a pile on my bed. Shaking my head at the irony, of my clothes covering the bed the way Sky's once did, I head to the bathroom and scoop everything into a plastic bag. Time is short, maybe shorter if Sky changes her mind.
One last scout around the house, I prop my bag and guitar by the open front door and return to Sky.
When she isn't in the spot I left her, I wander around the side of the house to where the shells are piled, the bright moon reflecting across the treasure.
“Sky?”
The evening breeze carries the sound of the waves to the house, the rustle of the low bushes lining the path my only response.
No Sky.
I slump onto one of the wooden chairs and struggle to catch up with the situation, realisation pushing through my confusion.
Sky walked away.
From me.
From us.
From everything we could be.
Blood thumps in my ears, and I stand. What do I do? Aware Sky might not be far, I run along the dirt track, shoes crunching gravel in the silent evening. There’s no sign of anybody walking ahead.
Sky left.
Why did she lie to me?
But what else was this apart from a lack of truth? Lies. Pretence. Regret coils around my heart, I should've told Sky straightaway who I was, if she'd run the first day and not enmeshed her life with mine, things would be easier. If I'd never known Sky, I could’ve avoided the pain lashing my insides with a suddenness and intensity I don’t understand.
Is it worse to feel something important is missing from your life, confused why the universe hides what completes you, or is it worse to find the missing piece that soothes your soul only to lose her again?
I walk away from the sanctuary of my past, from the place I came to hide, and scramble up the sand dune opposite the beach house. The sand is cool beneath my fingers and I pull at the sea grass struggling to grow on the barren soil. The tide draws away, pulled back and forth by the moon day after day and unable to stop; a relentless to and fro that never ends. Sky dragged me to the surface, saved me from drowning; and now she's let go, I'll fall back under.
Regret is pushed away by anger; Sky gave me hope I could be who I want to then snatched it away again. She left me with a bigger awareness of how empty I am, at how black the hole in my soul is without love. What we created in the short time we were together is inexplicable and crazy, but absolute.
Standing, I brush away the sand, steeling myself. I'll fix this. I'll make Sky mine; we belong to and with each other. The world flooded in and washed us apart but this isn't the end. We’re connected, the thread of our lives forever tangled and she doesn’t get to finish this by walking away.
Thank you for purchasing and reading Summer Star. I hope you enjoyed the book and I would really appreciate it if you left a review on the site where you purchased.
For more information about my new releases subscribe to my newsletter
Sign up for a FREE fortnightly newsletter serial exclusively for subscribers!
Dylan and Sky’s story continues in Falling Sky (Blue Phoenix #2)
Read on for sample chapter
Also Available
Unplugged (Blue Phoenix #3)
Rising (Blue Phoenix #4)
Coming April 2015
Reverb (Blue Phoenix #5)
Bryn’s story
FALLING SKY (BLUE PHOENIX #2)
CHAPTER ONE
SKY
I miss him.
Completely, overwhelmingly, illogically yearn for him.
Dylan Morgan crashed into my life and when he walked away, he tore into my heart and took a part with him. Picking up the fragments and pushing them back together is hard when there’s a crucial piece missing. And after months of ignoring the emptiness caused by someone who never existed, the hole remains.
With Dylan, I fought my heart until love pushed out logic and I yielded to the truth buried deep inside. I gave in to the man who told me things I was afraid to hear because he spoke as if he’d listened to my heart.
In the days after he left, I tried to hold everything inside so nobody would know. The pain wrapped around my chest, leaving me aching and desperate to breathe. I couldn’t tell anybody because nobody knew. We never existed.
I wanted Dylan to be my man from the sea, who existed in the brightness of the dark summer after Grant. I allowed myself to believe he could be more than the cliché, but he was worse.
Dylan never gave me an answer about Lily’s claims he raped her, which screams guilt. Therefore, I have no option but to believe the man I met in Broadbeach doesn’t exist.
After a week, Tara dragged the truth from me and everything spilled out. The emotions exploded in front of my shocked friend, one who’d never seen me like this, even after I split with Grant.
But Grant wasn’t a part of me. We shared time but never each other. Not completely. As sixteen-year-olds, we met and trod the same road, side by side but never together. The idea of all-consuming passion didn’t fit my view of a stable, predictable life. Foolishly, I believed the kind of love I had with Grant was safer.
Now I’ve learnt there’s no safety in love.
I should leave Bristol and all the memories it holds but I can’t let go. My life has changed completely this year with the loss of everything stable in my world; I can’t face moving away from the security of the place I grew up. Not yet. I’m on temporary contracts still, a permanent job doesn’t appeal to me. I convince myself this is because I need time to decide what I want to do, but deep down I know I’m holding back from moving on.
I remember a conversation we had - how we’d help each other toward a new future. In the past few months, I’ve gone backwards and so has he. I’ve returned to safe and boring and he’s returned to the life suffocating him. Dylan’s touring the States, has been for four months. I’m disappointed he didn’t stand up for what he wanted, but then neither did I.
****
DYLAN
I slump down in my seat, jet lag kicking in as the alcohol wears off. A seven-hour flight from the US and back to England for Christmas. I’m permanently dazed, the tour grind, alcohol, and the Blue Phoenix scene are a huge fucking blur. I toyed with the idea of bunkering down in my LA place for Christmas but I’m drawn back here. And I know why.
On the flight home, Sky pushes into my thoughts again. The savage ache for her returns and wraps around my insides until it fucking hurts.
Sky let down her defences and I broke her mending heart. I walked away to save us more pain but didn’t realise how enmeshed we’d become.
I didn’t leave; I ripped us apart.
I left for LA two days after Sky found out about Lily. The prospect of dealing with all the bullshit and lies surrounding the whole fucked up incident had me running away from the UK. I always fucking run and hide, take the coward’s way out. I told myself talking to Sky was a waste of time, whatever I’d told her she’d hate the man I really am.
Leaving things unanswered was a huge mistake. One I’ve come back to England to fix.
I return to a winter when I left an English summer, hard ground to match my hardened heart. I’m not sure I can face the country estate and the inevitable invasion by the rest of the Blue Phoenix guys so I’m heading for the London place. My model and pretend girlfriend, Cressida, moved on and Myf and her partner, Miles, stay in the apartment while working in London.
Myf is someone else I haven’t seen for months, my old school friend and the band’s first groupie. She even sang backing vocals for us early on, until she got a place at London International School of Performing Arts and took a completely different direction. At least with Myf around I’ll have company. I don’t want to be around the rest of the guys, but I don’t want to be alone.
Can I fix this? What if I’m too late and Sky’s moved on?
I’m not sure I can face her, but if I’m in the same country, I have one less excuse to hide.
****
SKY
Turning my back on Dylan is harder than I realise. I kid myself I’m not doing this deliberately, but I follow the media to see where Blue Phoenix is and what they’re doing, and looking at pictures of Dylan.
His hair is longer, curling and touching his ears. My Dylan has gone, if he ever existed, but the guy with the lost eyes looks like the man I knew and the image hurts my heart.
Grant attempted to get back together with me shortly after Dylan left and I kindly told him to go fuck himself. Since then, I’ve seen Grant with another girl so his need to be with me can’t be that great.
Tara continues to support me in ways I never thought she would. She calls me every day and catches up with me a few times a week, even though she’s in an intense relationship with her new guy, Tom. I don’t speak about Dylan or Grant much, but I often catch a look from her suggesting she doesn’t understand why I’m not over this, or moving on.
“Are you getting dessert?” asks Tara.
I blink out of my thoughts and pick up the laminated card menu. We’ve met for Sunday lunch at the local pub, a catch-up before the Christmas party season takes over Tara’s life. “Of course!” I smile.
A large plasma screen on the oak-panelled wall plays music tracks and Blue Phoenix appears with their latest track, ‘Slow Burn’. The papered-over hole in my chest is punched through as I watch and struggle to breathe. Four months and I react exactly the same. The clip has a classic black and white movie feel, a weird artistic interpretation that looks filmed in a small 1950s American town. Digitally cleaned up, Dylan looks more the star he is and less the mess from photos.
Tara twists in her seat to check out what I’m watching and stiffens. She turns back. “How’s Ryan?”
Lonely as the one member of my circle of friends without a partner or kids, I give up and date Ryan the accountant from the latest company where I work. He’s someone to take with me when we all go out, so I’m not the sad spinster in the corner.
With Ryan, there’s no spark, no banter, just average, every day, and comfortable. Read: boring. We’ve been together a month and I already have itchy feet.
“He’s okay,” I say.
Tara arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Okay? By that do you mean his health or your interest in him?”
“Both.”
“He seems like a nice guy. Genuine.”
Yeah, not Dylan.
“He is a nice guy, just not for me, I think.”
Tara leans forward. “Why? What’s he done?”
“I don’t think he gets me. He’s a bit… serious.” The video clip of Blue Phoenix won’t leave my attention and points to the real problem here.
“So are you, recently.”
“And I don’t like his dog.”
Tara chokes on her Diet Coke. “His dog is the deal breaker?”
Ryan has a border collie, Biscuit. Stupid name, stupid animal. Ryan likes to take us on long walks in the park, rain or shine or bloody cold winter weather, he doesn’t mind.
“The dog smells bad. And he keeps trying to jump on me.” I grimace.
“Tell Ryan to keep the dog under control then.”
“I’m talking about Ryan. They both jump on me and I’m not sure I want either of them to. Okay, so Ryan doesn’t smell of wet dog but… I don’t know. I’m thinking about finishing things.”
“Sky.” The exasperation in her voice is clear.
Again, Dylan catches my eye on the screen. He’s unbearably attractive in the black and white close ups. The full lips that were mine, the mouth that did incredible things to me. Why am I taking so long to get over Dylan, a guy I knew for less than three weeks?
Ryan’s athletic and reasonably attractive, but next to Dylan, there’s no comparison. I haven’t had sex with Ryan. Well, almost once, when I was very drunk, but I fell asleep before we got far. Good thing, because I’d have regretted taking that step in a relationship I’m not sure about. Besides, Dylan in my head when I’m in bed with another man isn’t fair. And that’s the big problem. Sex with Dylan has ruined any other man for me, not just due to his obvious skill, but the connection we had.
The connection severed the moment I discovered he’d raped someone.
Every time I see or hear the word, I’m dragged back to the moment in the cafe where Lily told me. Part of me can’t reconcile the man I fell in love with to a man who assaults women. Is this a gut feeling or wishful thinking? I’m not sure.
His half-hearted denial on the phone the day I found out didn’t make sense. The stilted conversation we had a few days later was weird. He denied the rape but said he understood why I didn’t want to see him again. And that was the last we spoke. I wanted to see him, but I knew if I did, he’d drag me into his Dylan orbit and I’d be confused by lies. The ease with which he backed off, when after Broadbeach he pursued me so hard, implies guilt as far as I was concerned.
But on the cusp of asking Dylan to see me again, to explain, he left for the States and I never heard any more from him.
He forgot about me, as I always said he would.
I never saw Lily again, or any of the rest of the Blue Phoenix entourage. Swept under the carpet, and hidden from the public eye, there wasn’t anything to cover up. Dylan and I hadn’t gone public so everything tied up nicely and life went on.
But through the anger toward Dylan is concern, which confuses the hell out of me. I remember the Dylan from the sea who desperately struggled to get away from the life that has a firm grip on him now. The pictures of him in the media show the trapped Dylan I met in the country lane, but magnified. He looks ill. Conflicted over caring about a rapist, I push the Dylan I thought belonged to me out of my mind. What’s the use of obsessing about who and what never really was?
“So for Christmas, what are you doing?” asks Tara when she returns from ordering our desserts.
I drag my gaze from Dylan to her. “I’m not sure; I might go to Spain to visit Mum.”
I plan to spend Christmas alone, and don’t want a pity party where Tara feels the need to drag me to her family Christmas. She thinks I can’t possibly want to be alone at Christmas and drops hints about me going with her every time we meet. Okay, I don’t want to be alone, but that’s beside the point.
“You booked tickets yet? Christmas is only a couple of weeks away.”
“I might drive,” I lie.
Tara eyes me doubtfully. “Well, you’re welcome to join Tom and me if you like?”
“I’m okay, Tara, but thanks for asking.”
Tara wrinkles her nose and the concerned look reappears. I shift my gaze to my drink.
“I’m worried about you being on your own at Christmas,” she says quietly.
“I said I was going to Spain!”
“You said maybe, and I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not worried about Christmas, Tara. At least I don’t have to spend another Christmas with Grant’s parents and extended family listening to them fighting and getting drunk, I can do my own thing.”
“Alone?”
“Alone. So stop making me feel like there’s something wrong with that!”
She rubs her forehead. “I worry about you, you don’t seem to be… right, still.”
I reach across the table and close my hand over hers. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Well, me and Tom leave on the 13th; if you change your mind, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
I look back to the plasma screen behind, hoping Blue Phoenix is still up there. They’ve gone.
****
DYLAN
I groan as I open the door to the flat. Tinsel hangs from every available place, covering the walls. A huge-ass Christmas tree sits in front of the panoramic window, blocking the view of the Mayfair skyline. I fucking hate Christmas; shit always happens in my life - Dad leaving, Mum’s death.
The aromatic smell of curry fills the air. Myf springs out from the kitchen and wraps her tiny figure around me.
“Dylan! Welcome home! I’m cooking and Miles is going to be late home, want something?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She touches my face. “You look like shit, Dylan.”
I stare back into her chocolate brown eyes. She never ages. She’s never cut her long dark brown hair, and still wears it in the same style as at school. Or maybe because my lifestyle aged me so much, she looks younger to me. “Thanks, Myfanwy. Nice of you to say.”
